Ain't Afraid to Die
by Hide-hime
Summary: I know, not an original idea. Draco reminisces over Harry after the war and angsts. But, please, give it a try. My first Harry/Draco. Dedicated to Ginga. Angst to cheer someone up... It's the thought that counts... right? R&R!


DEDICATION: This one is to Ginga! Here's your surprise, I hope you like it. Sorry you had to wait… a day… LOL. Since your parents have been a bit harder on you lately, I wanted to try and cheer you up (even though, you guessed it, it's angst…) before we get the hell out of here. Bottom line, I hope this makes you feel 'thpeshall.' (Say it out loud, it's 'special' with a lisp. ^o^)  
  
WARNING: Rated for slash and language and definitely for character angst… I think that's it.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Draco, Harry or any of the other characters/scenarios in Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does. Just borrowing them… permanently… Mweeheehee…  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Weee… Harry/Draco angsty slash! Nostalgia! Fluff! And all based on the lyrics to "Ain't Afraid to Die" by Dir en Grey. Actually, it was perfect inspiration! And, hopefully, this will be a one-shot. It takes place after Harry and Draco have graduated from Hogwarts, and the war with Voldemort has started up again. You are expected to believe that Harry and Draco have been together for a while because if I had to start their relationship from the beginning it'd be too long! Without further ado, enjoy!  
  
****Ain't Afraid to Die****  
  
The way that we walked together back then is lost  
Yet always we were walking,   
Someday, shall I meet with you?  
  
Atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls  
I understand that I cannot reach you, yet  
In your room, a single flower of the kind that you love,  
Is now…  
  
The day of last year's final snow  
A promise firmly exchanged  
When I remembered, it started to melt,  
And spill from the palm of my hand.  
  
Atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls  
I understand that I cannot reach you, yet  
In your room, a single flower of the kind that you love,  
Is now…  
  
All alone by the window, just staring at the snow,  
While I remember you through the glass,  
I recall you, and give you a final kiss…  
  
Hey, smile, don't cry anymore  
From here on, I'll always be watching you.  
  
Atop the gently sloping hill, the snow slowly falls  
I understand that I cannot reach you, yet  
In your room, a single flower of the kind that you love,  
Is now…  
  
The brightness quietly colors the inside of the town white  
You saw the seasons final colors  
A tear falls, reality is cruel, isn't it?  
You saw the season's final colors.  
  
The four seasons and your colors too soon will disappear,  
The snow melts, on the street corner, the flowers bloom  
You saw the hues softly dissolving.  
  
The day of this year's final snow, on the street corner,  
One single flower,  
When I look up at the sky,  
The final snow will spill into the palm of my hand.   
  
****  
  
Draco walked solemnly through the narrow streets of Hogsmeade Village, ignoring the occasional familiar face and wave, or in some cases, sneer. It wasn't the time to be troubled by such things. Everyone was in the highest spirits, maybe because it was almost Christmas, or maybe because the war was finally over. Probably both. But for Draco, Christmas had lost all of its luster and he now had a reason to dread late December.   
  
"Harry…" He murmured, staring up into the colorless sky. It was the anniversary of… Draco bit his lower lip harshly to keep from lapsing into a fresh stream of tears. He had been crying all morning and he refused to cry anymore! But everything was so firmly rooted in nostalgia that he could hardly do anything to dam himself from this barrage of emotion. Even the quaint little cottages, with their stone foundations completely awash with snow seemed to churn some mechanism inside of Draco that made him want to collapse onto the shoulder of the next person. But no matter how hard he tried, it would never be that shoulder…   
  
Making his way onto a beaten trail, half blanketed in snow, Draco paused momentarily to fiddle with the flower in his grasp. Harry had always loved them. Draco never understood why. They lacked the grace, beauty and charm that most the blossoms he favored retained, and in their place was a crude sort of clumsiness that he could never approve of. Daffodils. How could Harry have ever loved Daffodils? They were awkward, what with that ridiculous nozzle that always weighed down the rest of the flower. And the fact they were a blindingly bright yellow always made Draco frown in distaste. All in all, they were probably the most unsightly flowers he had ever seen, but Harry loved them, so they were found everywhere in their home.   
  
****  
  
"Draco?" Harry asked, canting his head to one side and smiling blankly at his lover. "What's wrong? Cheer up, it's Christmas!"  
  
The blonde only sighed ruefully and shot Harry a patronizing scowl. Leaning his head on Harry's shoulder, Draco pressed his face against the luxurious warmth of the other man's scarf. "Don't tell me to cheer up, Potter. You've been back for three days and they're already getting ready to send you back out!"   
  
Feeling strong hands grip him by the shoulder, Draco looked up into Harry's eyes, sneering when he saw the concern imbedded in them. "Don't give me those eyes, either, Potter. I'm just as pissed at you as I am with them. You knew bloody well we had plans for Christmas!" The heated Slytherin accused, having turned his glance to keep from any further optical manipulation. Harry had always been a very convincing person.  
  
"Draco… You're… You're being unreasonable. You don't know how much I want to stay, but…" He trailed off, his face losing its constant boyishness, only to be replaced with a somber frown. Draco could only hope that he'd be spared the rest of this lecture. True, he was still upset about spending yet another Christmas alone, but Harry was here now… Leaning into the green eyed man's body, he planted a soft kiss on his cheek, a rare action for Draco to present. Smiling warmly, Harry wound his arms around the smaller man, nuzzling his face into the soft, thin hair that covered Draco's head. "You do know that I want to stay with you, don't you, Draco?"  
  
Moving out of the man's grip to smirk egotistically at him, Draco tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Of course I do. You'd be a dolt not to, with what I was planning to give you…" He crooned, pressing a pointed finger into Harry's chest. "And now, guess what? I'm not gonna give it to you. I suppose I'll have to find someone else to spend Christmas with…" At this, Harry scowled playfully and grabbed the offending finger rather violently. "Oh, no you won't, Malfoy! Because if you do, I'll never forgive you!"  
  
Draco simply shrugged, silently mouthing, "Your loss," before winding his arms around Harry's waist and kissing him quickly. "Please, I know you better than you think. You'd never leave me. Believe me, I'm stuck with you for life…"  
  
****  
  
Only he hadn't been. The thought choked Draco, who was currently clutching desperately to the thin stem of the flower in his grasp. Things had changed so quickly he hadn't even had time to reminisce about that last day. It had been the last time the snow had fallen that winter and he could've sworn that that was an ill omen. Harry left the last time the snow had fallen… It was a bad sign. But all the signs had been ignored.  
  
He continued his dogged footsteps towards that distant hill. Draco could still remember what it felt like to see that hill and not have it not mean anything. To most, it was just the average hill, rather small when compared to some of the other ones in the area. There were no trees, no place for children to play, only the silent rows that had, for the past year, tormented Draco. Third row to the left, fourth one down. Third row to the left, fourth one down. He could feel his heart begin to pound, drumming that terrible rhythm into his brain and making it burst through the tips of his fingers, which were shuddering with every breath he took. His footsteps were soft and muffled from the snow and were ghastly to listen to. Thud. Thud. Thud. Third row to the left, fourth one down. Thud. Third row to the left, fourth one down. Thud. And when you mixed his thunderous heartbeat into the orchestra it was almost too much to tolerate. And the hill still seemed so far away…  
  
****  
  
They had settled in for a warm Butterbeer, Harry and Draco, and could now be found chatting heatedly in The Three Broomsticks. They talked on politics, the validity of the current war and what they suspected would come after it had ended. They had made a history of having their little "conversations" and this was just one of those very common instances. But when Draco began to talk on the plans he had for them after everything was settled down, Harry's comments began to sound more and more hopeless.  
  
"I don't think it's wise to plan out so much, Draco. I mean, you can't be sure on anything…" Harry mumbled, taking another long mouthful of Butterbeer.  
  
"Don't sound so grim. They're just little things… Like, after the war, I'm planning on moving back into our family home. Mother said I could, and I'm positive you wouldn't refuse the offer." It was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy had been captured by Voldemort's resistance and was put to death, an act that Draco himself had not taken part in. No matter how much you hate him, it's rather hard to help execute your father. "Afterall, that shanty we live in now is just not acceptable. I won't live in it any longer than I have to. So, when you don't have to fight anymore and I'm not crammed into that little room with Dumbledore and Granger, we'll have the whole mansion to ourselves, since Mother's going to live with-"  
  
"Draco." Harry stated sternly, looking the blonde directly in the eyes. "I don't want you getting your hopes up." His statement had a note of finality to it that didn't sit right with Draco. And then it struck him why.  
  
"Oh, come on Harry. You're being melodramatic again. You make it sound as though you're gonna die."  
  
And then came Harry's silence. And it spoke volumes.  
  
"Harry? You… You don't honestly think you're going to die… Do you? Harry?" The words were frantic and Draco had all but knocked both Butterbeers from the table. Coolly, Harry had steadied the mugs and set them off to the side. The wizard held Draco's trembling hand between his and smiled wistfully.  
  
"I don't want you to think about that." The brunette cooed. All Draco could do was narrow his gray, smoldering eyes at his lover.  
  
"You don't want me to think about it? What's that supposed to mean?! Goddammit, Potter, you better tell me what the bloody hell is going on or I swear to God I'm gonna-" Harry cut the livid man off once more. "Have you ever noticed that we call each other by our last names when we're angry? Guess it still proves that the old spark's still there."   
  
"Stop dodging the subject, you bastard! Tell me what you're talking about!" Now, to the average person eavesdropping on the conversation, Draco might have seemed a little irrational. But Harry never talked about the pitfalls of his job. He never talked about his own mortality. Draco had been the one who had stayed up at night, fretting over Harry's welfare. The man himself held an ideal of his own invincibility in mind, calling himself "a beacon of hope" to the people, proving that if they put their minds to it, they could survive too. But now, Harry was alluding to the fact that something might happen, and that was more than enough to frighten Draco.   
  
"Draco, it's nothing, you're being silly…" The man sighed, pulling his hands away from Draco's to cup them on his pale cheeks. Well, if Harry didn't want to tell him, that was fine. He could spend the rest of the day by himself, the miserable incompetent! Practically leaping away from Harry, Draco cast a hateful glower down at him and stormed out of The Three Broomsticks. Harry never withheld anything from Draco, and now… Now he was dropping hints at him! That was not to be tolerated, not by a Malfoy. As Draco returned back to their humble abode, he only hoped that Harry had the good sense to sleep in a hotel room until he was ready to stop patronizing him.   
  
****  
  
Somewhere inside of him, on some level of his subconscious, he must have expected it. After all, Harry was one of the most wanted people in the resistance against Voldemort, it was only a matter of time before they killed him. But… They hadn't. It had ended so strangely, so completely different from what some part of Draco had imagined. And it burned Draco that, as a member of the intelligence branch of the resistance movement, he had never been informed. That heartless bitch Granger and that senile old bat had made the call without him.   
  
If Draco had been any closer to cracking up, he could've laughed aloud. Well, of course they hadn't included him. Did they actually think he'd give an unbiased opinion to the matter? Not a chance. And being the "righteous" people they were, they had agreed to let Harry tell him in due time. He could just imagine the conversation now. It was all very predictable, Dumbledore would have anticipated that reaction from Harry, giving him his full support, and babbling on about how very brave he was. Granger cried, the old man clapped Harry affectionately on the shoulder and all the while, Draco was probably off fucking around, completely oblivious to all recent developments. He hadn't had words enough to explain the hatred he felt for them, the three of them, and he still didn't.   
  
Awakening from his all-consuming thoughts, Draco stared vaguely off into the distance, almost seeing through the unmistakable silhouette of the hill and into the coffins that populated its underside. Heroes of war they weren't. Harry had asked specifically to be buried there, next to the people he had "fought to protect" in a grave marked with an alias. But Draco had memorized which tombstone it was. He was listed as "Thomas Albert Mulligan." At first, Draco had broken down when he thought he didn't even know where Harry was buried. He had berated himself internally for not even remembering where the funeral had been! But Weasley had set him straight, and had even shown a little compassion for him. Not that it made an iota of difference. He still had nothing, nothing but the pity of a penniless moron and a mudblood. And Harry was still gone. Third row to the left, fourth one down.   
  
****  
  
Half-way back to his home in Hogsmeade, Draco started when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Of course, he knew it was Harry, but he could let him wait for a few minutes. Finally, Draco turned, sending him a haughty "I'm waiting" face and could only hope that this wasn't another lecture. But the most peculiar look had come over Harry. It seemed he had been crying, for his eyes were pink and swollen and there were tears still running down his cheeks that the man hadn't bothered to wipe away.   
  
"Please, don't leave me tonight. Please Draco, just stay with me tonight…" He pleaded, his voice empty and unsteady. As Draco could do nothing but comply, he opened his arms to Harry, crooning softly to him. So, something really was wrong… But he couldn't think about it now, while Harry was obviously so distraught. No, he could nuisance him about the reason later on.  
  
Draco lead Harry back to their home, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders the whole way. Whatever it was that was bothering him must have been very serious because Draco had only seen Harry cry a handful of times. This began to frighten Draco. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Once inside, he settled Harry down onto the bed and returned into the kitchen for a glass of water to give to the troubled man. What could it be? It had something to do with Harry's assignment, of that he was sure. But… Draco nearly broke down into a lapse of tears while walking to the bedroom. He couldn't let Harry see him like this, not now. And besides, he didn't even know what was wrong, he had no reason to cry. Still…  
  
Harry accepted the glass graciously, clearing what looked like the last of his tears from his eyes and downed the glass in a matter of seconds. "Thanks. I… I don't know what came over me. When I thought you were gonna leave, I just couldn't take it." He mumbled, a dejected look in his bespectacled eyes. The blonde nodded solemnly, gingerly stroking a few strands of Harry's raven black hair. "It's alright. I was over-reacting… Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."  
  
That statement seemed to chill Harry, for his grip on Draco's sleeve grew tighter. The suspense was killing him, but he had to bear it. He'd tell him in due time. Bending over, Draco planted a slow, soft kiss on Harry's pliant lips. The dark haired man hardly reacted, save for pressing his cheek against his lover's. Situating himself on top of Harry, Draco gripped at the sides of the man's waist, deepening the kiss in the hopes of getting some sort of a reaction. This was beginning to get unsettling. But, in the end, Harry pushed his tongue against Draco's, being pulled into the duel that the two always reveled so in. Before long, the kiss was broken, Draco breathing deeply, and Harry combed the loose strands of hair that attacked his lover's gray eyes away from his visage.   
  
"Won't you tell me what's bothering you? You never used to hold things back from me." Harry simply smiled feebly, possessively holding onto Draco.   
  
"If you want me to… But you have to make me a promise."  
  
"A promise?"  
  
The green eyed man nodded, his face devoid of all readable emotions. "Can't I know what the promise is first?"  
  
"No."  
  
Worriedly, Draco's eyes roved around the room, stopping on the vase adjacent to the window. Inside it was a single, half-withered daffodil, one that looked only a step away from death. One of its blanched petals broke free and fell to the floor, fluttering gently before it struck the ground. Bringing himself back to Harry, Draco took a sharp inhale.  
  
"I promise."  
  
****  
  
The promise. Draco had almost forgotten about it. All and all, it had been impossible to keep, for Harry as well as for Draco. In the situation, no one would have had a chance to fulfill it, but they had tried.   
  
It seemed as though, instead of getting closer, Harry's grave was actually getting further and further away. The flower in Draco's hand was now beginning to wilt and one of its petals cascaded into the colorless snow drift to the side of his boot. Just seeing the vibrant yellow next to the stark white was enough to evoke some sort of emotion in Draco. Anything could, at this point, and it would only get worse the closer he got to the tombstone. Bending down, Draco picked up the petal, held it to his nose and inhaled deeply. He could still remember that scent permeating their bedroom. Harry had insisted that it was romantic, while Draco thought it was repulsive. But now… It didn't seem so intolerable…  
  
****  
  
"Are you sure you want to know?"  
  
"I'm positive, Harry. If it's gotten you this shook up, I think I need to know."  
  
Harry sighed, tightening his hold on Draco's midsection, pulling him in for another kiss. "It's about my assignment…"  
  
"I guessed as much." Draco spat, a little upset that he just wouldn't out-and-out tell him. But, it was no time to rush him, fragile as he is. Harry gave him a remorseful glance and closed his eyes.  
  
"It's hard to explain."  
  
"Try."  
  
"Hermione's been working for some time on researching the bonding phenomenon between me and Voldemort. She was convinced that if the bonding lead to his downfall, that the opposite would lead to his next."  
  
Sending Harry a puzzled expression, Draco cleared his throat. "So, she thinks that if you get rid of the bond, he'll be defeated…"  
  
"More or less. Lately, Hermione's been getting closer and closer to the counter-spell that would nullify the bond. Except, she really didn't know what exactly would happen." Harry broke eye contact with Draco and stared at the daffodil. Another petal had fallen to the floor, lying next to its mate.  
  
Stopping dead for a moment, Draco's lower lip began to tremble. "You'll die, won't you? If you break the bond, you'll both die…" Silence. "Harry, you can't do it! There's another way! There has to be!"  
  
Instead of arguing with Draco, Harry simply smiled weakly and kissed him, a mere brush of lip against lip. "I already agreed to. I can't go back on my promise."  
  
Promises, promises. Draco could hardly contain himself. He wanted to fly into hysterics, to beat his fists against Harry's chest until he would reconsider. But he couldn't, instead, all he could do was sit there and stare at that stupid daffodil.  
  
"And you need to keep your promise." The green eyed man cooed, desperately kissing Draco's pale flesh between words.   
  
"And what would that be?" He asked in a perfect monotone, all emotion having left him in the desperateness of the moment.   
  
"That you won't let it affect you tonight. I want everything to be perfect, I want you to remember it."  
  
****  
  
Harry hadn't said that he wanted to remember it, he said that he wanted Draco to remember it. But of course Harry couldn't remember it, he'd be dead soon. Damn that bastard for leaving him alone. Damn him for not letting Draco sway his decision. Damn him for not telling him until it was too late. But that last night, everything had been so desperate, so needful. He still remembered that, even after, Harry had insisted in kissing him all night long. Maybe he was afraid that unless he etched every little piece of himself into Draco, the touch of Harry's lips on every square inch of his body, that he'd be forgotten. He really was a dolt.  
  
And now the hill was steadily approaching. After a brief break, the snow had begun to fall once more, colliding with his tears on the way down his cheeks. Draco could begin to make out the tiny mounds of snow lying atop the headstones. He could begin to see the many details that he had long since forgotten. Draco hadn't visited that hill since a few days after Harry's funeral, almost exactly one year ago. Finally, that sickening lump had sunk into the ground on "Thomas Albert Mulligan's" grave, leaving only an aura of numbness in its wake. And still, the rhythm continued…  
  
****  
  
Later that night, when Draco was resting, almost entranced, beside Harry, he began to curl himself up in the green eyed man's hold. He couldn't let go, couldn't fall asleep, because when he woke up, Harry would be gone. Kissing Draco's head gently, Harry swallowed audibly, noting that the sun was almost beginning to rise.  
  
"Are you afraid of dying?" Draco asked hurriedly, a frantic glimmer in his half opened eyes.   
  
"You promised to not talk about it."   
  
"Are you afraid of dying?" He questioned once more, sounding almost crazed. It would be morning soon and Harry would leave. He would become the martyr of the Wizarding world, save everyone from the clutches of the Dark Lord and probably go down in the annals of history for all time. And here Draco was, selfishly trying to keep him from doing so. It hurt so much…  
  
"No, I'm not." Harry answered confidently, meeting his gaze with Draco's.  
  
"When why were you crying earlier? You were afraid."  
  
"I'm afraid it won't work…"  
  
Suddenly, Draco spun on Harry, grabbing him forcefully by the shoulders and narrowing his tear stricken eyes at him. "If you're not sure it will work then why are you doing it?! You're going to die for nothing?! I mean that little to you!!"   
  
"Draco…"  
  
"How can you do this to me?!" Draco cried, collapsing onto Harry's chest. "How can you do this to me…?"  
  
****  
  
He had done it. Oh, there was no doubt in Draco's mind that he had made the right decision, but it still stung him that love was not enough to keep Harry Potter alive. He had to be a hero. But now, he was just being spiteful. Draco knew that if Harry had been given any other choice, he would have taken it. But this outcome had always been inevitable. Face to face with Voldemort, Harry had undoubtedly spouted a brave speech, then ran himself through with a glistening, crooked dagger, thus severing the bond between himself and the Dark Lord. After Voldemort's fall, they had recovered Harry's body, bathed in its own blood and still with the knife rooted in his chest. Then they had hauled him out here, to this hill and had buried him in the cold, cruel ground, six feet under the insulating blanket of winter. And you couldn't even tell where one grave began and another ended.  
  
And at last, he was there. Third row to the left, fourth one down. Harry's grave. Gazing down at the tombstone, Draco read the inscription to himself. "Thomas Albert Mulligan, truly a man among men. He will be in our hearts and memories forever. R.I.P."   
  
****  
  
Before either of them realized it, morning had driven its fiery chariot through the village of Hogsmeade. Awakened by the harsh winter sun glinting off the snow outside their window, Draco shielded his eyes. Meeting nothing when he rolled over, Draco bit back a gasp as he saw that he was alone in the bed. Had Harry left without saying goodbye? But a tender hand stroking his hair brought Draco back and he stared in disbelief at Harry, fully dressed and smiling pensively. "No…" The blonde whispered. He was soon silenced with a kiss, their final kiss.   
  
"I love you, Draco. No matter what, remember that I love you. And remember that I only want to see you smile."  
  
Draco could hardly move. He was distantly aware of the tears that rolled down his cheek and of the feel of Harry's hand intertwined in his hair. But all too soon, Harry had left without even giving Draco the chance of returning his sentiments.   
  
The blonde situated himself at the window, watching in horror as Harry walked down the barren, early morning streets of Hogsmeade. None of the few people on the street knew what Harry was going to do, that he was going to give his life to save them. Draco was beside himself with his grief. It was torture to see him walk away, his figure slowly getting smaller and smaller until he couldn't even see Harry. Draco pounded on the glass and, in his misery, smashed the flaccid daffodil's vase against the wall. Gaining somewhat more composure, Draco sobbed against the window and bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as the last snowflake hit the ground.  
  
****  
  
And now, with the daffodil an inch below the snow and lying on Harry's grave, Draco fell to his knees. There were no tears, only a silent kind of pleading that emanated from the man's very bones. If only he hadn't gone, if he'd only stayed by Draco's side, he wouldn't have this gaping hole in his heart. If only Harry had loved him a little more. But at least Harry had been able to see the season's final color. And Draco had been able to see Harry's.  
  
****  
  
THE END  
  
****  
  
END NOTE: Wow. I really didn't mean to make it that sad. Sorry Ginga. It's the thought that counts, right? Right?! Just know that I spent an entire Saturday writing this. And please, if any of you people out there read it, review it! Or… Or… Or in my next fic, I'll kill Draco, too! LOL. 


End file.
